


The Apples of Idunn

by mythopathic



Category: Marvel, Thor (2011)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Coming of Age, Family Drama, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-10-22
Updated: 2011-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:06:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythopathic/pseuds/mythopathic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The true warrior's honour and the loyal daughter's duty. Sif's story. [Follows the events in Sons of Kings]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Apples

Freyja’s hair was a torrent of luminous red gold that reached down to her thighs. Sif brushed it each day, morning and evening, to silky softness. Every four hours Freyja changed into a different lovely garment of which she had an endless assortment. Sif was at times asked of her opinion on matching and Sif was at times correct since Freyja always knew what she wanted. There were pomades and tints for the face and body to choose from, kohl for the eyes, intoxicating scents for the hair or the skin, earrings, pins, buckles, brooches, slippers, sandals, furs, torques, belts, gauzy or opaque veils and their purpose was to enhance the goddess’s beauty.

In the mornings Freyja and her handmaiden visited the great houses of Asgard. Sif sat in her nebula blue morning frock and a matching veil, that hid the shortness of her hair, and listened to the ladies complain and gossip while Freyja promised assurance to their petty problems. Sif came from such a great house.

“My family will ever be grateful to you Lady,” Syn told Freyja one of those mornings in Syn’s airy bright hall. She took a pitying look at her daughter though Sif had made sure to keep her eyes fixed on the mosaic deer on the floor. “The veil is an improvement I think.” She then set her eyes on the golden winged headdress pinned on Freyja’s shiny cloud of hair and pursed her lips.

“Sif is a treasure and it is my honour to have her company,” responded Freyja. “You may look upon your daughter and be proud.” Sif felt her cheeks heat up.

“I have great hopes for her future, Lady.”

“I know. I have been discussing with Idunn. She will have an apple for Sif by the Solstice,” Freyja assured her.

Thankfully on the hour Freyja always made an excuse to depart and they were off to their next destination.

 

Idunn’s apples were an obsession in Asgard. A slice was usually given to the slain or the infirm to heal them but to some select few Idunn presented an apple as an honour. A whole apple increased the Asgardians’ lifespan to a hundred and fifty years. To consume the fruit steadily over a period of time meant immortality – and everyone wanted immortality. The gods had all been alive for millennia. Freyja the Lady had lived for two thousand and fifty six years, held the form she had had at twenty-six and would not require the sleep for another thousand.

The amphitheatre was unusually full, for the sake of a renowned dwarf magister and for the main show Idunn’s lecture that was yet to start. Freyja stayed outside under the oaks where even more people were killing time, and Sif having spotted at the eastern quarter a familiar yellow bowed head climbed down the honey marble wing and took a seat next to Sigyn.

She spared a moment from her furious scribbling to grin warmly at Sif. “I didn’t know you were interested in astronomy.”

“I used to but Tyr teaches sword techniques in the training ring every morning and Thor hasn’t missed a session yet.” Sif swallowed around a knot in her throat. “Hadn’t.”

“Loki will be sore to have missed Austri. He is something of a prodigy. I am taking notes for when Loki returns,” Sigyn said completely deadpan and the heaviness in Sif’s chest was momentarily forgotten.

“Why do you think he will return?” she asked and for a moment it seemed that the blonde girl did not hear her.

“Asgard is his home,” Sigyn answered like it was the most obvious thing in the universe.

The shame, the dishonour threatened to choke her. No true warrior accepted her comrades exiled for her faults. She almost believed that her mother’s will had been the better path. It had always been playing at swordswomanship and the mastery of war because there had never been the possibility that she could join a real battle against the many enemies that threatened Asgard. Thor had indulged her childish wishes because he loved that way and because maybe just maybe she was good enough to be a challenge but in the end her sons – their sons – would become the warriors of legend and song and she would raise them good and brave.

It had only been playing at war. Thor had followed his brother because he knew the wrong done to him and because it was dishonourable to stay behind.

“Sif!” Sigyn’s amber eyes became the centre of a sinking world but the hands holding Sif’s face wiped the tears. “Listen to me.”

“I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I am so--.”

“Do not worry. They are the princes of the realm.” Sigyn said soothingly. “Not even Loki will stay away forever. Odin Alfather will devise something to bring him back, and Thor as well. From where do you think Loki gets his deviousness?” She smiled.

“My mother would never accept it.”

“Your mother is looking after your future. If Freyja has taken you under her wing then her incense will surely abate.”

Sif sniffed and rolled her eyes. “I am to be given Idunn’s apples apparently. You should have se--. Oh.” It certainly made sense.

“There you go! It’s a pure transaction: your immortality for his son. He is devious I tell you!”

Sif straightened and wiped her eyes. Around them the audience began to clap marking the end of Austri the astronomer’s lecture.

“Somehow you are the healer in training and I am your mother’s right hand,” Sif said acidly and immediately regretted it.

Sigyn frowned. “That was a foul blow,” she said.

“It was. I take it back. I am not myself, forgive me.” She took Sigyn’s right hand and breathed when the cool fingers squeezed back.

“The Alfather wishes to bring his son back,” Sigyn said folding her notes. “And I wish he brought his son back. It is a fair bargain for everyone. Do not ruin it. Please.”

Sigyn rose from the marble seat and climbed the last steps down, one of the few people leaving the amphitheatre. Every family had its own issues.

 


	2. Chasms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Invaders in the Lady Freyja's house.

It was a fine well balanced dagger thin and sharp with a bronze and alabaster hilt, and beautiful too with the intricate knotwork and twin rubies on the guard. The thick ebony candelabra was dressed with mother of pearl but was scorched in the fire Sif lit to distract the invader. The candelabra proved more useful than the dagger in keeping the six foot jotunn at the right end of it and away from her. Don’t let them touch you, my love, lest your flesh turn to ice and crumble in front of your very eyes.

 _A hint of a glint played on Heimdall’s golden eyes. He well remembered giving that warning to his small sister in his gravest storyteller’s voice while the blaze of the hearth reflected on her widened eyes and the winter’s storm howled vainly outside._

The smoke stung Sif’s eyes but the frost giant did not dare approach the flaming curtains. Even so Sif was backing down until in a flash of insight she realised he was herding her to the corner blocking her every exit. There was one candle left on the candelabra which miraculously had not gone out. Sif set fire to the bed. The bear throw caught first and she threw it behind the jotunn. The stink of burned hairs seared Sif’s nostrils; still, a pearl embroidered cushion all ablaze flew to his left.

He was getting visibly agitated opening his arms and roaring at her. His torso was exposed and Sif turned her dagger in her fingers blade first. She felt its deadly sharpness on her fingertips and positioned her legs just so.

A scream came from the antechamber filled with more outrage than fear. With the first sound of pottery breaking Sif had pulled the dagger off the wall it had been mounted on and Freyja had gone out to the terrace and then if she were smart on to the antechamber where she could have waited for Sif’s diversion to work and then flee. It should have worked. Unless there were more than one intruder.

The frost giant grinned maliciously and Sif threw the knife. He fell, the shining metal hilt protruding from his ice blue throat.

The smoke was coming out the bedroom in a thick cloud. The antechamber was empty.

“Guards!” Sif shouted. She repeated it for good measure and to her disconcert her voice sounded high and shrill.

Looking down from the terrace she saw another frost giant carrying a bundle of the deep blue colour Freyja had worn just after midday and was running for the city walls. She jumped to land softly on the west gardens shrubbery and followed on foot.

 _“You should have taken the dagger,” Heimdall said. Sif had thought the exact same thing._

She spotted a city guard in his cow horned helmet slouching on a lamppost and changed her course.

“Watch where you’re going, girl!” he yelled when she grabbed him.

“Quick! Call the alarm! Frost giants have stolen the Lady Freyja!”

“I don’t have time for frolicking with idle young lasses. Go away.”

The jotunn moved fast and she couldn’t see them anymore. “Fine!” she said and clenching her jaw grabbed his sword and ran. Something good ought to come from the delay.

She had always been a fast runner, faster than anyone she had ever raced against and the jotunn was heavy and carried a load. She dodged tree boughs and jumped over streams and boulders because he was smart and crossed through the park running parallel to the main street but away from the crowds. She ran fast but still she was out of breath when she caught up with him.

A glance and a roar told Sif he had spotted her. I am going to regret this, she thought, but he had found a new spurt of strength and she might lose him. She tripped him and both giant and Freyja landed with a thump.

“Freyja?” Sif called, worried.

A groan still seething outrage, and a worded reply. “I’m fine. Get him.”

The relief was short-lasting because the jotunn rose to his feet and already a ring of sleet spread out from him covering the bed of fallen leaves and grew and grew and soon enough reached Sif and the bruising cold gripped her feet.

The first ice shard hit her left temple. When the melting water trickled down to her mouth it tasted of iron. She slashed at the ice locking her feet in place. She broke free and slid behind the nearest tree. The salt of her sweat already stung the many tiny cuts on her cheeks and brow and the arm which she had put up to shield her eyes was slippery with pink water.

 _“A sword lacks the right balance for throwing.”_

Indeed, which is why she had never practised it before but Sif had to try and she made the mental note to have a proper sword made for throwing in the future that was to come most definitely and absolutely. Around her the bladed hailstorm would not cease.

“Frost giants!” Freyja shouted. “Guards, protect the city. Guards!”

The shower of ice ceased.

“Freyja, run!” Sif cried. The frost giant slowly advanced on Freyja who would not run. He did it on purpose of course, making a point with their difference of size—he was twice her height—emphasizing the incredulity of her resistance, mocking. Freyja clutched her necklace but stood her ground.

“How dare you,” she was saying. “How dare you.”

Sif didn’t have much choice in the matter.

 _“Oh no.”_

She charged.

She managed one almost successful swipe and sliced open his forearm while she aimed for his navel. He screamed his pain swinging his arm out and Sif took the blow to the chest. Breathing was impossible. She fell on her back and the blue of the sky descended ever so slowly to envelop her head to toe until there was only darkness.

 

 

Heimdall sitting by her bedside shook his head. Sif, her head supported in an ocean of swansdown pillows, laughed but the pain from her broken ribs turned it into a wheeze.

“It was special necklace,” he said tactfully.

“I was completely unaware!” So special a necklace that could have struck a jotunn or a hundred of them dead should have been renowned and not have been treated as a bauble by her mistress.

“Its original function was actually—.”

She broke down. “Oh the Norns save me! The necklace was lost because of me and the thief escaped unscathed. She—she could have burned him to ash!”

“You prevented the theft of its owner. It is a fact that will work in your favour.” He smiled and his golden eyes glinted. “I see it.”

“The loss of Freyja’s magic pendant and the frosty bastard who took it are only more numbers in my growing list of faults to redeem,” she grumbled.

“In the meantime she is content with her mercenary bodyguards and you have been dismissed.”

“How is that a good thing exactly, brother?”

His eyes again glinted.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, too much action? And I used the fainting trick? Tsk tsk.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, that's right. An all-girl chapter.
> 
> My Asgard has Nobel prize winners and GM immortals. Sorry for the infodump. Also, for the sake of convenient drama Sigyn is Freyja’s daughter and Sif is Syn’s (who is the goddess of defensive refusal).


End file.
